Alive
by adorbskatic
Summary: An 8x22 post ep. "She fights through the grogginess, her eyes searching the room, searching for him."


A/N: For Nadia - thank you for the inspiration.

* * *

The glaring light against her closed eyes is the first thing she notices as she comes to. As her other senses begin to kick in, she smells the sterilization, tastes the dryness of the air that can only be attributed to a hospital room. The searing pain that's flashing through her body muddles her thoughts.

She survived.

Caleb's dead, Loksat's over, and she somehow managed to survive.

It hits her then. _Rick._

Her eyes blink open, the light temporarily blinding. She turns her head to the side, frantic to find her husband, but her movements are slowed by the medications that she's just now beginning to feel. She fights through the grogginess, her eyes searching the room, searching for him.

Her eyes land on Ryan, instead. He's sitting in a chair across the room, head tilted so it rests on his palm, eyes focused somewhere on the floor.

"Where's Rick?" she croaks. Her voice is rough, both from disuse and the stale air, but it gets Ryan's attention. He's up and standing at her side in seconds.

"He's okay," he assures her quickly, his voice purposefully steady. "His surgery went well and he's going to be fine, I promise."

 _He's going to be fine_.

She'll believe it when she sees it.

"Is he awake yet?" Her voice is barely a whisper, and she doesn't yet trust it to get any louder.

Ryan shakes his head as he reaches past her to grab a cup of ice chips, which she gratefully takes.

"No, not yet," he replies. "They gave him a heavier dose of anaesthetic. They didn't want to risk it with you, not with the baby."

She nods, but wait did he - _with the baby._

"Wait… the baby?" Kate asks. But then it clicks – she was a week or so late but she passed it off as stress due to Loksat and – oh God, she was _shot_ and she's _pregnant_ and –

"Oh… I thought you knew- " he gets out, interrupting her thoughts.

"Is it okay?" she chokes out, because it has to be okay.

"The baby's fine. You're, um, six weeks along, in case you were wondering,"

"Oh, thank God," she sighs. She's already in love, she realizes, when two minutes ago she didn't even know he - or she - existed. It's part her and part Castle and she almost died and all of this is just too much all at once, and she just really needs to see her husband. "Thanks, Ryan."

"Anytime, Beckett. I'm going to go let one of the nurses know that you're awake. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah, uh, could you just check up on Castle?" she asks, her voice almost timid, but she really just needs for him to wake up. "Let me know how he's doing?"

 _Let me know he's okay._

"Of course," he replies, promising his return, before leaving the room.

She closes her eyes as he shuts the door, takes a moment to breathe, to take everything in.

 _A baby._

They're going to have a _baby_ and she's excited and scared and in pain, but all of that is overpowered by the need to tell Castle, the need for him to be okay and deal with all of these things with her.

Ryan comes back and updates her on Castle's condition - stable - ten minutes later. She finds herself sending him over to check on her husband every fifteen minutes. He pretends to be annoyed by it, bothered by her insistence, but she can tell from the shine in his eyes that he needs the reassurance that Castle's still there, still breathing, just as much as she does.

* * *

Rick wakes twelve hours later. Three days after the shooting. She realizes that for the first time all day, she's truly able to take a breath.

But still, it isn't enough.

It's not enough just knowing that he's awake. She needs to see him, touch him, _hold him._ But she can't, not yet at least. Instead she settles for phone calls, conversations that have little substance more than quiet whispers and steady assurances.

They refrain from talking about anything significant, instead keeping the conversations easy and light hearted. He jokes with her, tells her stories that make her laugh despite the pain, make her smile through the haze of medication flowing through her veins.

The calls help, they do, but she misses him, and phone calls as the other fades in and out of consciousness is no substitute for the real thing.

* * *

He gets transferred into her room the following morning, after endless threatening on her part - and probably annoyance on his. The second she sees his face, the second her eyes meet his for the first time in three days, nothing else matters. They lived, they survived, and it's _over._

"Hey," she whispers as his bed is wheeled in. She's smiling at him, but it's weak and she can feel her eyes beginning to water.

"Hi," he echoes. "You look good."

She lets out a surprised laugh, feels a real smile spread across her face, and she's pretty sure that was his goal. They've both just woken up after being shot, she must look like an absolute mess, and he's complimenting her, seems to be genuine about it too.

"Thanks, babe," she replies, amusement evident in her tone. "You're not looking so bad yourself."

He isn't, not at all. He's alive, and she's pretty sure he's never looked more beautiful to her.

The nurses situates his bed beside hers then. They're still a few feet apart, just out of arm's reach, but all she has to do to see him is turn her head, and that's so much better than what she's had for the past twelve hours.

The nurses finish situating the room and remind them that they have to remain in bed, where they are, before leaving them alone.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, content to just take each other in, revelling in the fact that they're able to be here together, both of them living and breathing. They stare at each other, eyes wide and smiles full, because even though they're both looking worse for wear, they're going to be okay, and that's all that matters.

"So…" he whispers after minutes have passed. He's smiling at her, his grin somehow larger than it had been when he was first wheeled in, but no less genuine. His eyes are shining with something she can only describe as love. "We're having a baby."

"You know?" she asks, but of course he knows. If it wasn't Ryan who had told him, she's sure it was one of the many doctors who have been in and out of their rooms throughout the days. Hospitals really weren't places for secrets.

"Ryan told me," he muses. "Couldn't keep the smile off of his face the whole time, too."

"He told me too, assumed I already knew," she replies, shaking her head. "But I'm going to kill him. I wanted to be the one to tell you."

There's no malice in her tone, and really, she isn't too mad at Ryan. Sure, she would have loved to have been the one who got to tell Castle that he'll be a father again. But Ryan was excited and it slipped out, so she won't fault him for that.

"Maybe would have been for the best," Rick mumbles, his eyes averted from hers, focused on his own hands instead.

"Why?"

"When I heard you were pregnant I may have been a little bit _too_ enthusiastic about seeing you."

"Oh, Rick," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, nothing."

She tries to glare at him, because he's sure as hell finishing this story, but it's weak, lessened by the weight of the painkillers coursing through her body.

"Okay, I just… almost ripped out my IV and tore some stitches while trying to get out of bed so that I could see you."

"Rick," she admonishes, but it has no bite to it. It's sweet, and while it may not have been in his best interest, she won't berate him for it.

"Hey, most women would see that as a romantic gesture," he replies, winking at her.

 _And most women didn't almost lose you,_ she thinks to herself.

"It was," she admits instead. It was sweet and romantic and so many other things, but she's upset that he tried it at the cost to his own health. If she's going to do this, if she's going to have his child, then she's going to need him to be here with her. "I just - I wish you wouldn't have put yourself at risk to do it."

"Hey, Kate, I'm fine. We both are, okay?"

"Okay," she mumbles, irresolutely.

"No, look at me," Rick coaxes. He waits for her eyes to meet his before he continues. "We survived this. We're okay. We may be in rough shape right now, and we might be for a while, but we made it through this, and we're going to come out stronger than before. I promise."

"Okay," she replies, and maybe this time she believes it.

* * *

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Martha and Alexis spend most of the afternoon in their room, fussing over them both and admonishing them about how they need to be more careful. It comes from fear, and Kate and Rick both do their best to soothe some of that panic.

Her dad stops by, too, but he doesn't stay as long. He makes an excuse about work, but she can tell that he notices the fatigue setting in. He assures her that he'll be back the next day, makes her promise to call if she needs anything. The boys flitter in and out of the hospital as well, tell them it's follow up for the case, but Kate's pretty sure they just want to see them, something she'll tease them for later.

They're alone now, though. Together in the quiet of the room, the persistent beep of machines a constant reminder of their surroundings. They'd convinced the boys to move their beds closer together when they had visited earlier, and she now finds herself thankful that they'd convinced the nurses to allow it.

Rick's close to sleep next to her, but his grasp around her hand remains strong. She feels herself giving in to the pull of sleep herself, and while she'd rather be in their bed, in his arms, she's thankful that she can at least settle for the grasp of her hand in his.

She rubs gentle circles over the bone of his wrist with her thumb and he hums in contentment.

"We're going to be okay, you know," he mumbles, and she turns her head to find him watching her with hooded eyes. "It's over now, we're free, we're having a baby, Kate, and everything's going to be okay. Better than, even."

She hums in response. They will be; they have to be.

"So," he whispers into the quiet of the room, a small smile on his face. "About Paris…."

* * *

A/N: all of the thanks to Bean for helping with ideas, beta-ing, and for convincing me to post... you're fab.


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